


Hatif

by Schattenfeuer



Series: Myths [4]
Category: Nightmare Harem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Mild Smut, Other, Reader-Insert, genderneutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenfeuer/pseuds/Schattenfeuer
Summary: The disembodied voice that called out to any and all, to warn them, to guide them.
Relationships: Mikael/reader
Series: Myths [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868830
Kudos: 2





	Hatif

It needed just a split second, a moment of carelessness and ruin could come crashing down over you like the unforgiving waves of the storm whipped sea, the consequences of it all breaking your spine with the weight of guilt as you stood there, helpless, useless, as red dropped from between his fingers, run down his cheeks like a macabre version of tears, you could do nothing but gasp and hold onto his arm when he stumbled, before he pulled you down with him, hard, your knees connected to the smooth marble floor of your own home, but what was your pain compared to his?

Even with his hands clasped in front of his face, you could hear the muffled sounds of agony, they were knives, each of them and they cut deeper into your heart than any assassin ever could. Around you, chaos was still unravelling, shouting and the crash of metal meeting metal before the sickening thump of one, two and finally three and four bodies dropping put an end to this terrifying orchestra of battle, before Noel and Ricardo returned to their wounded master’s side. 

Mikael had just been distracted for the shortest of seconds but it had been enough, even a protege like him was not invulnerable, as his bleeding proved to you in horrifying clarity. You didn’t even felt it in you to be shocked by the attempt on his life, this had happened too many times by now, more by the fact that this time, they had come to very close. You wanted nothing more than to take his pain and make it your own, to free him from the burden of wounds, but before you could do anything, had Noel pried him away from you. 

That was the last time you had seen Mikael for weeks, the sight of him propped up by Noel and his face hidden in his hands, leaving into the darkness leading deeper into the estate, burnt behind your eyelids. No information about his wounds reached your ears, every attempt to uncover the truth was blocked by Noels apathy and Ricardo’s usual aggressiveness, you were for the lack of a better word, blind. You tried knocking and finally, forcing Mikael’s door open, but it was locked every time, it was as if he had become a ghost, not even his name dropped around you anymore. 

The tension was steadily rising until you felt you could no longer breathe, those walls that you had started to identify with the feeling of being at home returned to blank prison walls, closing in on all sights, but you couldn’t even leave beyond the estate’s garden, the gates locked tightly and no matter how hard you pushed against them, they would not budge. No one was leaving, no one was coming and the tension rose ever more. 

“Mikael…”, you couldn’t take it any longer, found yourself downright clawing at his door, what was happening? To you, to him, to this entire situation. Those assassins had been dealt with, surely Noel had been able to heal whatever wound had plagued him, you were all save, so why was he not letting you in. A dry sob crawled in agonizing slowness up your throat, you leaned your forehead against the door and strained your ears, anything, to catch a sound, any signs of life from the other side. “Please let me in...let me see you…”

You could almost feel him standing there, on the other side of the door, gaze cast far away and expression taunt in displeasure. You held your breath, counted down the seconds until you lost track of the minutes in which they had morphed without an answer from him, but you refused to move, stayed stubborn. It had worked once, it would work again. When the sound of a key being turned in its lock vibrated through the wood pressed against your forehead, you felt all strength leaving your legs and a shaky, short sigh came over your lips. Thanking all the forces of the cosmos, you pushed and before he could think twice, you had wormed your way into the room, closing the door behind you. 

It was dark in his bedroom, your eyes hurt in their attempt to adjust but when they finally did, you could make out his pale silhouette sitting on the edge of his bed, crumbled and not at all like the proud man you had remembered. Flashes of liquid red, dripping like tears down his cheeks and from between his fingers came back to haunt you, even as you shook those memories off, you couldn’t help the sick feeling that something was wrong. 

Calling out his name, you crept closer, carefully, gently. You did not expect such a violent reaction upon putting a hand on his shoulder, he lashed out, flinched and then you saw it. The crimson tainted white, wrapped around his eyes, hiding them from the world and keeping him in a darkness that had everything and nothing to do with the impending night. He kept his head facing forwards, lips curled downwards in an unhappy frown, but before he could even start to lash out, you reached for him again, slower this time, letting your fingertips brush over his hands, curled into tight fists on his lap. 

“Mikael”, you spoke softly, like he was a wounded animal about to bolt or worse, about to attack. He could break you, easily hurt you, all he needed to do was unleash the impressive amount of spells you knew he had stored away in his vast mind. And you would have taken it, if you had the confirmation that this would help. But most likely would that only backlash, the moment’s relief replaced by guilt. Underneath your touch, you could feel the hammering of his pulse, steady and invisible, hidden by pale skin that felt clammy with cold sweat, he looked so broken in the little light the sickle moon outside provided, your heart twisted and clenched painfully as you slowly came closer, this time making your steps loud enough for him to hear. “I am...so glad to see you.”

His smile was none of amusement, was a brittle and sharp thing that reminded you of a broken mirror that had been fixed with glue and nothing else. Beautiful in its spider web like pattern but still broken and so very dangerous to unknowing hands. Your choice of words did not help either, for you could see and he was blind, helpless and so very tired. Even when he wanted nothing more than to push you away, his body recognized your warmth even through the layers of your clothing, your scent promised familiarity and the sound of your voice a relief, comfort from the pain haunting him. 

“Can I…?”. you asked, your hand hovering to cup his face, he must have felt the warmth radiating from your skin, because his lips twitched unhappily, yet he leaned into your touch, sighing. Behind the bandage stretched over his blinded eyes, he could feel his eyelids flutter involuntarily, as he - still not used to this pitch black nothingness around him - attempted to take in the sight of you. In the wake of his lost sense of sight, his other senses tried so very hard to compensate, he took a deep, shaky breath as he reached for your familiar figure, his hands trying to acquaint themselves with the curves that made out your shape, desperate to have at least something in this all consuming darkness, that kept him anchored.   
What must you be thinking of him now, he wondered. Were you disgusted? Were you now done with him? Was now the moment in which you would turn your back onto him? Part of him was afraid of what would come now, he had pushed that confrontation as far back as he could, but even he was not immune to the sound of your cries when you had clawed at his door. 

Pulling at your arm, he pressed his forehead against the bony ridge of your collarbone, his hair tickling your neck and shoulders, while his arms around your waist were tightening to an almost painful degree. And yet, you had yet to pull away, the closer he kept you, the more he grew afraid, it was a cycle of hurt and fear that could not be broken, not all by himself. His lips brushed against the softness at the base of your neck, where it bled into the expanse of your shoulders and torso, he could taste the sweetness of you on the tip of his tongue, on his lips like powdered sugar. It mingled with an even sweeter taste of your lips against his, gentle enough to force a broken sound out of him, tears of blood red welled up in his useless eyes, drenched his blindfold and tainted the kiss with the bitter tang of copper and salt. 

You wanted to take his fears, wanted to burn them, so that only ashes remain, the same ones you would use to built up his confidence, so that he could shine bright again. This might not be the right way, but it was the only one you knew, as you pushed him back, until the sheets nearly swallowed his lost form, framed by a halo of tangled, white hair. His hands never once left your body, as if he was afraid you would disappear just like his sight, even when you crawled to straddle him, you kept your movements slow and gentle, this was not for pleasure, not for you but for him, so that he could put to rest those terrible thoughts that ate away at him like acid. 

At first, you spoke haltingly, unsure of how to put it to words, but the longer you muttered sweet nothings into his ear, while your fingers caressed the expanse of his body, the freer you became, until you were reciting boldly words of passionate love and unending loyalty, you promised him the world while making him sing in broken sobs, catching each red tinged tear with your lips and stealing his breath when he could no longer make a sound. 

In a way, you became his guiding star that day, the lifeline that kept him together. And he would always follow the sound of your voice, because you promised and used this power over him so sweetly, that all he could do was relent. All he could do was fall to his knees and pray for one more word, one more sound to come over your lips. 

You were his hatif.


End file.
